


In Second

by twitch



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Backstory, Boys Will Be Boys, Character Study, Child Abuse, Child Neglect, I do honestly hate that phrase, Light Angst, Minor Violence, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-10
Updated: 2016-10-10
Packaged: 2018-08-20 13:03:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8250070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twitch/pseuds/twitch
Summary: Once he was told that dreams were for children. Aspirations were for adults. Duty was for soldiers.
Child, adult or man, he refused to be second for anything.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Last week I managed to get my self wrapped up in the idea of Maratelle Hux insulting Armitage. Calling him a "second-hand son." From there it evolved. Somewhat introspective piece of the childhood to adulthood of Armitage Hux.

Once he was told that dreams were for children.

Aspirations were for adults.

Duty was for soldiers.

He wasn’t sure what he was but he knew that at five years old he was too young to be sad, too young to wish he could be three years old all over again. Sitting on the tallest stool in the kitchen, watching the staff tend to each of their responsibilities. For all the technology that everyone cherished some jobs were still assigned to men and women. He sat and watched avidly, knowing that one day he’d be as good a cook as Dmir. Would chop as fast as Priya. 

Occasionally Dmir would have him help. Help pour the vegetables into a pot before it went onto the stove. Mix batter for a pie for one of the sous chefs.

A lot of the time he watched his mom, her red plait hanging down to midback.

He wasn’t a soldier. Yet. It would be only a matter of days, whether it was sixty or twelve. The Commandment hadn’t been at home in over a week, conferring with the remaining men and women of what had been the Empire’s fleet. No longer having their academies to raise and train a new generation they were working and building new institutions. New techniques. New ‘Troopers. 

New Soldiers.

“Get away from the window.”

Hoping to see a familiar face, especially one with red hair tied back in her trademark braid, Armitage held out for four more seconds before dropping down from the ledge, sitting with his back pressed to the cold wall. He was still short enough that the sill was above his head. Just barely. 

“Come here.”

Her command was crisp and just like the military he would join this was an order not to be disobeyed. 

Rising he made his way to Maratelle. That’s what his mind provided for him. Everyone else called her his step-mother but to him the term was foreign.

He knew what a mother was like.

“She isn’t coming so sitting by that window is pointless.”

A mother wouldn’t say things like that.

“I know.” Whether he saw her outside wasn’t the point. So long as the Commandment, never his father, wasn’t home, he wasn’t allowed to go outside. At least when Maratelle was actually paying attention to him. What she didn’t know didn’t harm him. “The weather looks nice today.”

She murmured something in agreement, gaze flitting briefly to the window. Her attention was for the most part on her datapad, most likely connected to whatever frequency happened to be the strongest today to get the daily news. Lukewarm caf sat on the cabinet table beside her chair. Inside the cabinet was the small collection of books that the Commandment approved for him. All textbooks. Even for a kid leisure wasn’t allowed.

He’d already done his morning readings but without anything else to do he gently opened the cabinet, pulling out the heaviest book. Incidentally his favourite. 

He hadn’t jostled anything in the process. He knew he hadn’t, knowing how cautious he had to be with the old piece of furniture. It didn’t stop the warm caf from spilling onto his head.

The lack of rattling from the mug or the mug falling to the ground meant that she had to be holding it purposefully. 

“Get the cloth to clean that up.” He stood up, glad that the book remained shut in his hand, caf spilling from the side of the spine. “And bring me back a hot cup of caf.” Indeed the mug was in her extended hand, held upside down.

He took a step back, holding the mug between his hands. “Yes ma’am.”

He was out of reach from the smack she would’ve given him. 

“Insolence will not be tolerated boy,” she snapped, not bothering to get up.

The kitchen wasn’t a proper separate room, the actual cooking centre and refrigerator setup like a bar. There was enough space between the two appliances for two sinks and a brewer. The brewer was still on, keeping the pot of caf hot. It was an old-fashioned setup but it was a functional one. He filled the mug almost full, enough allowance to ensure he wouldn’t spill any of it. Cloth slung over his arm he carried the mug between both hands. “Sorry.” He’d learned enough to fake sincere to look and sound it truthful to her. Otherwise he’d be owed the smack she missed giving him previously.

Her scowl smoothed away a fraction, washed down with a sip. “Boys like you should address your elders properly. Second-hand sons should be grateful for the opportunities they are given.”

He cleaned the dribbles that landed on the wood flooring before sitting down. He picked up his book and opened it to where a broken shoestring acted bookmark. “Yes.”

Another sip and she looked down her nose, watching the dust motes with the same derision she gave him. “Considering your own father can’t take care of you you’re more of a third-hand burden. I have no responsibility to be taking care of you. Thankfully it’s only a matter of time until you’re shipped off to an academy.”

Thankfully.

*

“Cadets, you know why you are here.”

He had put it off long enough. He’d gotten away with it for several months. Well used elastics and transparent clips that a couple of girls had been willing to trade with him helped to conceal the fact that his hair was past regulation length. 

It wasn’t a teacher but a co-op student-officer, ready to embark on his first onboard ship training. He’d been given the duty to give all his fellow student-officers a touch-up before they all left for their placements. Armitage wasn’t the only cadet present. He was one of three who didn’t wear their hair to protocol. The girls were clever with their elastics and clips, keeping their hair to regulation length with tricks. The boys weren’t allowed to be clever or tricky. 

The two boys who stood to his right had hair no further past their shoulders. 

His hair came to the edge of his shoulder blades, fastened in a braid. 

The student-officer brandished the razor like a weapon. “Hux, you’re first.”

“Cut the braid off first. Please.” He decided that being nice might work in his favour. “I want to keep it. For my mother.”

“The Commandment’s wife?” He snorted but searched for scissors, rummaging in the drawer of the small room they were in. Neither office or first-aid room proper. Medbay took care of all medical needs yet the room remained sterile and blandly white. “She’s as sentimental as a boot.”

If he wanted to believe that was the mother he was referring to he wasn’t about to correct him. “You’d be surprised.”

*

Physical training classes were a necessary evil. While he effortlessly bested his fellow students in every practical and theoretical class that evolved from books and holonet sources training classes were where the others boasted and goaded each other on to best him to all of their abilities, no hold bars.

Bruises and cuts were inflicted with pride.

They didn’t even need to be creative, unlike outside of class. 

Blood trickled from his face and hands and arms, speckled with more than his freckles. Larger shapes of reds, blues and purples. It was like the newest pestilence spreading across the universe.

Infextus Hextus.

“Hit him again!”

“Knock him to the floor!”

Hux danced back from the punch, not even getting a graze of knuckles to his arm. 

His opponent knew that taunts did little to him. The only thing he learned was to compartmentalise them. They were the motivation to keep him going through every bruise and cut. All the reminders that another hour less sleep to study ahead into the next chapter would guarantee he’d stay at the top of his class and year. 

It didn’t mean that he didn’t try taunting him. 

“Need a dancing partner? You’re not going to find one here. Find yourself a ballroom.”

Nothing new there.

He did get a swat to his chest, a hit that wouldn’t amount to a bruise.

They grappled while the other boy tried to hip-check and throw him to the ground.

“Hux Hux Hux. Such a poor imitation of your father. You’ll never amount to him. No wonder he’s never around. Why would Senior want to see Junior fail all the time? You can never hold yourself up in the long run.”

He was doing better this time around.

Until he tripped over his own feet. Everyone laughed as he rushed to stand up.

“Yeah, you should let the professionals stick to the dancing. Ballrooms and militaries don’t want second-rate-”

Everyone gathered stared in shock as he fell clean to the floor, back flat and head ringing. 

A welt was already forming around his eye.

Armitage’s knuckles had cracked upon impact. 

If he had broken any fingers it was well worth it.

*

One hour less sleep became three less hours on ship. He no longer had pale features buried in a book or datapad to pass his classes. Classes and essays were replaced by missions and reports. Academy to Starship. His seniors were no longer his Professors but senior ranking Officers. Occasionally he would meet and recognise his fellow students. Except regardless they were the same age as him or older he was climbing the ranks faster than them. 

The only thing that would always loom over him was his namesake. 

Or so he thought. 

Despite his skills and merit assisting him to climb the hierarchal ladder his off-time was spent watching and working alongside the engineers who worked on the starship. Mostly they performed maintenance and construction on the day-to-day necessities that were required to keep the ship running. Monitors. Processors. Weapon construction and modification. The usual.

If anyone had noticed that on the construction reports that were issued in on- and off-ship communications his name was included no one had mentioned it previously.

When he was singled out by the General it was normally to be commended for his duties.

The next time he was requested to join him in his office the General stood side by side with a man cloaked fully in black, including the mask that covered his face. 

“I didn’t realise you had requested a leave of absence.” 

Hux pursed his lips together but kept his expression blank. 

He most certainly hadn’t.

“You didn’t even ask for leave for your mother’s funeral.”

He hadn’t.

He did suspect that there was a smirk behind that mask. 

“It’s only temporary, Sir,” he explained, shifting his weight by easing his feet apart. Normally he stood a couple of inches taller than his General but he relaxed his posture purposely. “I’ve been asked to provide assistance and I thought you were already aware and had approved it.”

“We will be back by the evening,” the cloaked stranger confirmed, glancing to the General. Hux kept his face neutral even though the modulated voice took him by surprise. The stranger stepped forward, taking him by the arm and easing him around. “Come, we can not be late.”

Normally he would’ve shook the hand off but curiosity got the better of him. 

Outside in the corridor they walked to the hangar, Hux trying not to think about the shorter man beside him.

*

A Knight of Ren. 

Fascinating. He had never heard of him. 

Heard of them as it turned out to be. 

Upon reaching their destination he was greeted by another Knight. This one was silent, escorting him to the room he was expected to wait in. Even the previous Knight was quiet during the walk, despite him being friendly and talkative during their flight.

In due time, not just that day, he met the rest of them. All of them were pleasant if not single-minded. Lenient he mentally acknowledged his own single-minded tendencies. A man without direction was no man. Yet for all his questions they didn’t reveal their purpose, only acknowledging that they served the Supreme Leader as did the First Order. Just separately. 

If only he could find something positive to say about their Master. The Master of the Knights of Ren. 

As luck would have it all of his conferences with Supreme Leader Snoke involved Kylo Ren, directly or indirectly. At least his day to day responsibilities didn’t involve that spectre the majority of the time. He got to interact with his fellow officers on the Starships. And more engineers and scientists to build the weapon that Snoke gave his approval for construction.

What took the Lieutenant by surprise was when he stood to Kylo Ren’s right, in the latest of their shared meetings.

A new Starship was already being constructed. It would be ready to be launched in two months. Under Kylo Ren’s command.

General Hux would be Second-in-Command.

Outwardly he bristled.

Inwardly he raged. 

He could hear Ren’s self-satisfied chuckle.

He wasn’t aware of Snoke’s gaze focussing on him solely.

Silently penetrating the cracks of the psyche of the young soldier, the young man, the young boy, peering and searching…

“On second thought-“

Ren froze at the Supreme Leader’s quiet words.

“Your responsibilities would always be divided, Kylo Ren. You can not be responsible solely for the operations of a Starship simultaneously to your duties and missions of the Knights of Ren.” Nodding with steepled fingers he glanced to the Lieutenant. “General Hux will be your co-commander.” 

It was satisfactory. 

Not as he hoped.

He would prove to the Supreme Leader that his decision was not made in folly.

He would not be second this time.


End file.
